Love You Forever
by mo.texas55
Summary: Mikey is on the look-out for the perfect mother.
1. Chapter 1

**So I've been wanting to do a piece that focuses mainly on Mikey since I've given so much attention to Donnie and even Raph and Leo at points. So this would be it. I have a feeling this is going to turn out longer than initially planned, and I'm not sure how consistent I'll be with updates, but I wanted to go ahead and get started on it, so here's chapter one :)**

**Disclaimers: No, no, no, no...They are not my turtles. **

**Also: _Love You Forever_ was written by Robert Munsch. In no way shape or form is the story mine, but it was one of my favorite children's books growing up and if you haven't read it, I implore you to. It's adorable!**

**Housekeeping is done. As always, read and review, but most importantly enjoy!**

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><p>"A mother held her new baby and very slowly rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she held him, she sang: I'll love you forever—"<p>

"You have to sing it!"

Donatello sighed and Mikey could feel the burst of warm air brush across the top of his head. It was an expression he was used to though. His brothers often did a lot of sighing around him; he never knew why.

Instead of acknowledging it, he burrowed closer to his brother's side, resting his head against the bridge of Donnie's shell and pressing the threaded crown of his teddy bear up to his nose. It had a damp scent to it, much like the ever present mustiness to the air of their home, but with it, it had always carried the faintest hint of something sweet, something warm, something nurturing. He imagined that, before he'd found it nestled in a heap of trash blocking a barred runoff, it had belonged to a child his own age whose mother kissed the bear's head every night after kissing her child, rubbing her scent off on its cotton skin to be infused with the bear's ever-lasting existence.

Donnie cleared his throat and sang in soft, melodious, seven-year-old tones:

I'll love you forever,  
>I'll like you for always,<br>As long as I'm living  
>my baby you'll be.<p>

Mikey smiled against his bear and watched as his brother turned the page of the picture book, the arm he had around Mikey's shoulders pressing him close for a moment.

"The baby grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was two years old, and he ran all around the house. He pulled all the books off the shelves. He pulled all the food out of the refrigerator and he took his mother's watch and flushed it down the toilet. Sometimes his mother would say, 'this kid is driving me CRAZY!'"

Donnie flipped the page again and Michelangelo's wide blue eyes followed the movement.

"But at night time, when that two-year-old was quiet, she opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor, looked up over the side of his bed; and if he was really asleep she picked him up and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. While she rocked him she sang:

I'll love you forever,  
>I'll like you for always,<br>As long as I'm living  
>my baby you'll be.<p>

"Hey Donnie?"

"Hm?"

"Is that what she looks like?"

"What who looks like?"

Mikey reached out and pressed a finger against the page of the book, indicating the illustrated picture of a woman with soft brown hair and affectionate eyes, peeking over the edge of her baby's bed, a smile in her cheeks, loose strands of hair framing her fair face.

"Is that what _our_ mommy looks like?"

Donatello went quiet.

Mikey stared at the picture for a moment longer before peeking up into his face. His brother's young, intelligent eyes stared back at him as though he'd just seen a cockroach crawling over the top of Mikey's head. He said nothing.

Instead, he withdrew his arm from around Mikey's shoulders, set the book face down on the mattress and climbed off of the bed to disappear from the room, leaving the door cracked open.

Mikey pursed his lips then looked down at his bear and smiled at it, petting its head. The bear stared back with shining black eyes, and Mikey could imagine that the faint smudge on its forehead was a stain of lipstick left by its previous owner's mother. He wondered what color she used: classic red like the women in the commercials? eccentric purple to match her spontaneity? or maybe she just swiped on a neutral-colored lip gloss every morning before taking her son or daughter to school. Maybe she was a simple mother…He'd have liked that as much as any other.

Donnie rushed back into the room, clutching something in his hands, and shut the door quickly and quietly behind him. He paused, as though listening for movement then turned, walked over to the bed, and dropped Spike onto Mikey's lap.

Michelangelo smiled at the little turtle and patted its head with a finger, just as he'd done his bear. Then he looked up to his brother, blinking once or twice.

"I imagine she'd look something like that," Donnie elaborated, indicating the turtle now nibbling on the teddy bear's ear.

Mikey looked down at Spike, gently tugging the bear away, and then back up at Donnie. "Like _Spike_?"

"More or less," Donnie shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I don't think we're the same breed of turtles that Spike is but…In a general sense, yeah."

Mikey furrowed his brow. "But Spike's a boy!"

A tiny smile perked up the corner of Donnie's mouth. "Well with most reptiles it's kinda hard to distinguish between male and female."

"But we don't look like Spike."

"That's because we're different, Mikey. Remember Master Splinter said that the ooze made us special?"

Mikey shook his head simply and set Spike in Donnie's lap. He picked up the book to point at the picture. "I think our mommy looks like that, since Teng Shen wasn't our real mom."

"Mikey," Donnie sighed, gazing at him with that look he sometimes got when Mikey asked him certain questions, his brow furrowed and the corner of his mouth slightly pulled back, as though he smelled something sour but didn't want to acknowledge it. "We came from the pet store…Remember?"

Mikey nodded with a wide smile. "Uh huh. That's why Teng Shen couldn't have been our real mommy. But we had to come from somewhere didn't we?"

"Well, yeah but—"

"Spike?!"

Donnie stiffened, automatically cupping the small turtle in his hands as though to hide him from the frantic voice coming from the hall. His wide-eyed gaze flickered from the door back to Mikey and he stood up and urged Michelangelo to lie back in his bed. He pulled the covers up to his chin, cradling Spike in one palm, and used his free hand to tuck Mikey's bear in next to him.

"We'll talk about this later." He set the book on the stand next to Mikey's bed and began to shuffle away.

"Donnie!"

The older turtle turned with one hand on the doorknob, anxious to get out of the room and return Spike to his owner before any damage was done.

"What?"

"You didn't kiss us goodnight."

Donnie's lips pressed into a thin line and then he sighed and hurried back across the room. He leaned over and planted a quick kiss on Mikey's forehead.

"Goodnight Mikey."

"Don't forget Bearington!"

Donnie kissed the bear on the head. "Goodnight Bearington."

Mikey smiled and pulled his brother forward to return him a kiss on the cheek, and then Donnie held out Spike so that Mikey could give him a peck too on the crown of his head.

"Goodnight Donnie. Goodnight Spike."

"Mikey!" came Raph's voice, approaching the door now.

"I didn't do it; it was Donnie!"

Donnie made a face as Mikey smiled up at him innocently and wiggled deeper beneath his blankets.

His immediate older brother turned and hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him, but Mikey could still hear the bickering that took place just outside the door.

"Donnie, you jerk—"

"Mikey asked me a question!"

"How many times have I told you, Spike is not a prototype?"

"That's not really what a prototype is Raphie."

"Whatever; go to bed. And stay away from Spike. Splinter says you're not allowed to use him for science anymore."

Michelangelo's smile spread and he picked up the book on his nightstand and flipped to the page Donnie had stopped at. He stared at the picture, peering through the shadows his nightlight had hung like streamers around the room.

Though the woman's face was half hidden, he still thought she was beautiful, and he could almost picture her smile, white and warm, comforting and loving.

If he had a mother, she would look just like the mother in the book, and she would sing him lullabies and kiss him and Bearington goodnight every night, and she would separate his siblings whenever they started to argue, and she would laugh tenderly at Donnie's turtle-mother theory and pat him on the head, and she would smell exactly like the sweet, nurturing smell that had been weaved into the fabric of his bear, and she would love them all so much that she'd cry at the thought of them ever living without her.


	2. Chapter 2

_The little boy grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was nine years old. And he never wanted to come in for dinner, he never wanted to take a bath, and when grandma visited he always said bad words. Sometimes his mother wanted to sell him to the zoo! _

_But at night time, when he was asleep, the mother quietly opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor and looked up over the side of the bed. If he was really asleep, she picked up that nine-year-old boy and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she rocked him she sang: _

_I'll love you forever,  
>I'll like you for always,<br>As long as I'm living  
>my baby you'll be. <em>

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><p>"Hey Leo, can you help me with somethin'?"<p>

Mikey watched his eldest brother tilt his head to the side as though to acknowledge his presence without actually taking his eyes away from the television.

"Huh?"

"I need your help."

Leo continued to stare, ten-year-old eyes reflecting the flashes of colored, slightly fuzzy pixels. He absently drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, letting slip an audible gasp as something on the television blew up and illuminated his face with brief flashes of orange light. His eyes became glazed in a way that Michelangelo was very familiar with, and Leo said nothing else to his youngest brother, probably forgetting that quickly that Mikey was still standing over him.

He wrinkled his nose and kicked the bridge of his brother's shell. "Leo!"

"Mikey, _what_?" Leo exclaimed, still incapable of tearing his gaze away. "_Space Heroes_ is on. Why can't you ask Donnie to help you?"

"He fell asleep after training. I think he was up all night taking apart that pinball machine we found yesterday."

"What about Raph?"

"He told me to go away."

Leo groaned, dropping his head back against the ridge of his shell. "RAPH!"

"No way Leo!" came Raph's voice from the direction of his room. "You're the 'big brother;' _you_ deal with it!"

Leo puffed up his cheeks and exhaled heavily then rolled forward onto his toes and pressed pause on the VCR before taking his time to stand. When he finally took in Mikey's appearance he furrowed his brow.

"What's all over your face?" he demanded.

Mikey responded with a smile.

He snatched up Leo's hand and dragged him to the kitchen where Leo's blue eyes went wide upon seeing it in its disastrous state - a white powdery substance covering every surface, the faint and ever-increasing scent of burnt algae hanging in the air as something sizzled in a pan on the stove, the sink filled to the brim with dirtied pots and pans, and a soggy, moldy, thick, rectangular lump sitting open like a book next to the stove.

"Mikey," Leo breathed. "What are you _doing_?"

Mikey hopped over to the decomposing book and held it up for Leo to see, one of its soggy pages peeling off the back on its own and plopping back down on the counter. Leo inched forward to squint at the picture of what might've been a stack of pancakes were it not for the giant smudge of that same white powdery substance smearing the page that also streaked Mikey's cheeks.

"I'm making breakfast," Mikey explained, setting the book back down. He peeked at his smoking pan on the stove and picked up a wooden spoon to push his concoction of algae and powder around. "I wanted to make pancakes, but we didn't have most of the stuff that's in the cookbook, but it was mostly just flower, water, sugar, and eggs. I figured I could use algae instead of eggs, and we have plenty of water, but I found this in one of the tunnels!"

He heaved up the large paper sack he'd stationed on the floor for easy access, and half of its contents spilled out onto the counter, burying the book in a mound of white.

"It's sugar!" he exclaimed. "At least I think it is. What's that say?"

Leo, with a dubious look to his eyes, peered at the word Mikey pointed to. "Powdered," he read, then dusted off the bag to read the word beneath it. "It is sugar—powdered sugar."

"Oh great!" Mikey exclaimed. "It kinda looked like the stuff they use on cooking shows. I figured since we don't have any flour I could just use more sugar instead. But um…It's not exactly turning out right." He glanced at the smoke curling up from the stove and pushed around his makeshift pancakes again.

"Mikey," Leo said with a cautionary tone to his voice. This was the same voice he often used whenever Mikey brought home something that crawled, or thought of taste-testing unnamable items, or snickered in Leo's ear about a prank he planned to play on Raph. It was the kind of voice that had an undertone of, 'I don't want to spoil your fun, but I don't think you've truly thought about what you're doing.'

"What are you doing this for?" he asked.

Mikey blinked at him and then smiled. "It's Mother's Day."

He could feel his older brother's eyes staring at him as he continued to peer into his pan, pushing the algae and sugar around. It looked more like a heap of blue-green mashed potatoes than pancakes. Well…He had to start _somewhere_.

"Who told you that?" Leo's voice asked after a long moment of silence.

"Oh!" Mikey ran out of the kitchen and to his room. He shuffled his comic books around and dug underneath his bed until he found what he was looking for and then ran it back into the kitchen to show his older brother. It was a calendar he'd stolen from Donnie a couple of days ago after first making sure that it was the right year. He flipped the pages until he got to May and pointed to the square he'd circled with one of the markers he'd also stolen from Donnie.

"See?" he said to Leo. "It says Mother's Day…Right?"

Leo furrowed his brow as he stared down at the little printed words then looked up at Mikey with a strangely pained grimace, but nodded nonetheless.

Mikey smiled and set the calendar to the side. "I was wondering what we could use instead of syrup. Do you think maybe if I just boil some of the sugar in water that would work?"

He glanced back at his brother who continued to stare at him.

"What?"

Leo shook his head. "Nothing. It's just…" His lips slanted as he wrapped his arms around himself. "Why are you doing this Mikey?"

Mikey blinked. "Leo. Weren't you paying attention? It's Mother's Day!"

"Well yeah, I heard you, but…" Leo's cheeks flushed, half hidden beneath his mask. "Mikey, we don't have a mother."

The little turtle could feel his cheeks deflating the slightest bit, as though Leo's words were magnetized and intent on pulling the corners of his mouth down. But he knew better, and he fought it. "I know. But that doesn't mean we can't celebrate it right? It's a holiday."

Leo's expression still looked slightly wounded. Mikey hoped he hadn't upset his older brother by dragging him away from his TV show.

"D'you know humans like to put things _in_ their pancakes?" he said, lifting the pan to scoop the mush of algae and sugar onto a plate. "Sometimes they put like nuts and fruits in it, and sometimes they put chocolate chips. I think our mom would've liked hers with chocolate chips, don't you?"

He flashed a beaming smile at his eldest brother—his special smile, because he knew none of his brothers could resist it, not even Raph when the smile was at its most powerful. And sure enough, after a moment of silence, Leonardo gave way to a soft grin and stepped in front of the stove to help Mikey dump the rest of the mixture out on the plate.

"Yeah…I think she would have."


	3. Chapter 3

**So far, writing Mikey has been surprisingly challenging. He feels kind of out of my element, which would explain why I normally stray away from him. Weirdly enough, I'm not used to writing through such naturally happy characters, and I don't find myself the least bit funny. I'm trying though, so I'm sorry if at points he feels a little un-Mikeyish. If you've got any suggestions on how to funnel Mikey's character I am all ears :) But anyway...Here's Chapter 3!  
><strong>

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><p><em>The boy grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was a teenager. He had strange friends and he wore <em>_strange clothes__ and he listened to strange music. Sometimes the mother felt like she was in a zoo! _

_But at night time, when that teenager was asleep, the mother opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor and looked up over the side of the bed. If he was really asleep she picked up that great big boy and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. While she rocked him she sang:_

_I'll love you forever,  
>I'll like you for always,<br>As long as I'm living  
>my baby you'll be. <em>

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><p>Michelangelo sang quietly under his breath, his voice caught and carried off by the same wind that whipped the tails of his mask against the back of his head. He sat on the ledge of the building with one knee drawn up to his chest while his other leg dangled over the five-story drop below him.<p>

It was mid-day, but cloudy, and most everyone was too busy trying to get wherever they were going to look up in his direction. And at this point, he wasn't the weirdest thing these people had seen anyway. So he sat comfortably, unconcerned but not unaware. He always kept his ninja senses turned on. His nunchucks were nestled readily in their holsters on either side of his waist, his belt full of shuriken, throwing stars, and smoke bombs. His T-phone was tucked next to the chuck on his right, and Donnie would use it to track him if he didn't show back up at the lair before they started to wonder where he was.

When he'd snuck away, Donnie and April had had their heads together, bent over homework. Raph he'd left to wrestle Casey, and Leo and Splinter had just begun their afternoon meditation. He figured he had a while. So he plucked a bag of Skittles from the left side of his belt, tore off the top and dumped its entire contents into his mouth, bobbing his head contentedly as he continued to hum and stare down at the playground just below him.

There were children everywhere from crawling age to freeze-tag age, screaming and squealing and chasing one another around much the same way he and his brothers did occasionally…Maybe a little more than occasionally.

He observed sympathetically as a little boy in a Batman shirt was tagged aggressively by another boy a little older than him who wore the same kind of roguish grin that Mikey was used to seeing on Raph. The tag was so aggressive, in fact, that it looked suspiciously more like a shove in the back, and the Batman kid got a face full of synthetic turf.

This hostility—however "accidental" it may have been—was answered with a scream that cut through the level volume of the other twenty-or-so shrieking children, and Michelangelo found himself shaking his head as he watched the bigger kid grow wide-eyed and flush-faced and try to pull the Batman kid up off the ground. But the Batman kid's mom was there in an instant and the bigger kid panicked and dropped him, to which the Batman kid only shrilled louder.

The mom was a freckled woman with frizzy red hair and wide hips, and she exuded the same kind of maternity all mother's had when she scooped up her little boy and kissed the top of his head with a kindly pout that perfectly read, 'I'm so sorry, honey.' The bigger kid spoke to her frantically, tugging on the hem of her shirt with that I-didn't-mean-to! face, and the mom nodded and patted his hair forgivingly.

Mikey's eyes traveled across the playground where another woman bounced a baby girl in a watermelon dress on her knee, holding the baby's miniscule hands in each of hers and rubbing her nose against the baby's face until the baby widened her mouth in a toothless smile. This woman had blonde hair, and it seemed as though the baby on her knee would soon become a big sister.

His eyes scanned the area again until they landed on a gaggle of moms standing under the shade of a tree. Some of them were too old, some too young, some had blonde hair and kind faces, some had brown hair and angular faces, a couple had babies on their hips, and a few had their arms crossed, and one looked like she really didn't want to be there.

He sighed. They all seemed nice. But none of them were the one he was looking for.

He waited only a moment longer before standing. Maybe he'd check another park before going home.

That was when his T-phone began buzzing insistently against his hip. He groaned when the picture of Captain Ryan popped up on the screen. Had it been anyone else, he might've ignored the call.

He pressed the phone to his ear and gave his cheeriest, "Hey Leo!"

"Mikey," Leo nearly shouted. "Where the heck are you?"

"Me?"

"Yes _you_, doofus," barked Raph. "When someone uses your name and the word _you_ in the same sentence, it kinda implies that they're talking to _you_."

"Well, not necessarily—Ow!" came Donnie's voice, interrupted by the sound of a slap.

So they had him on speaker…He hated it when they did that, though he had to admit he was always the first to put his brothers on speaker anytime he called them too.

Leo's sigh was very clear. "Where are you Mikey?"

"Oh I'm on my way home Leo. No worries."

"That's not the question he asked," Donnie said.

"Mikey, I swear, if you're hiding somewhere in my bedroom again…"

"Psh, I'm nowhere near your room Raph."

He glanced over the edge of the building as sirens went off, interlaced with bellowing honks as a fire truck squeezed its way through traffic.

"Are you up top?!" Leo exclaimed.

He pursed his lips. "Well um…Define 'up top.'"

"Mikey!" chorused his brothers.

"You little weasel!" Raph shouted. "You went topside without telling us?"

"Mikey it's the middle of the day!" Donnie shrilled.

"Chillax, bros. No one saw me."

"_No_ one? _Really_?" Leo said.

He scratched the back of his head and was glad his eldest brother wasn't present to interpret the motion. "Well, except for this one guy who was sitting in a lawn chair on the roof and thought I was a gargoyle. But no worries," he added quickly. "I took care of it. Got a free pack of Skittles out of it and everything."

Donnie and Raph's comments were buried under Leo's demand. "Mikey, you come home _right now_."

Michelangelo tossed his head back. "Hai _Sensei_," he scoffed sarcastically.

He could hear Raph cough a snicker just before it was buried again by Leo's voice saying, "You'd better be here within the next ten minutes."

And then the line went dead.

He sighed, tucked his T-phone into his belt, crushed the Skittles bag he was still holding in his fist, and tossed it over the edge of the building before taking off into a sprint and diving into the closest alleyway.

Mumbling something about older brothers, he kicked at a soda can and then heaved the manhole cover off the ground. He checked quickly over his shoulder—a cautionary measure Leo had gotten all of them to practice. One never knew when he was being followed by Feet. But there was no one around, besides the pedestrians not bothering to glance into the alley.

He jumped down into the hole, stopping his momentum by catching a rung on the ladder below just long enough to replace the manhole cover, then let himself fall into the blackness. He was engulfed immediately by the familiar mustiness of the sewers and comfortably walked on before his eyes could fully adjust to the darkness. He was so used to these tunnels by now. He could easily navigate through them with his eyes closed if he wanted to. In fact…

He closed his eyes, then decided he didn't trust himself not to cheat and turned his mask to the side. He stomped down the tunnel confidently for about five steps before his nose hit a wall.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, rubbing his beak and then turning his mask back around to glare at the wall as though it was the slime-coated bricks' fault for getting in his way. But he got over it quickly and moved on.

He kicked at trash and puddles of sewage as he walked, occasionally passing under dappled afternoon light spilling through the grates and drains. He began humming again, the same lullaby that had been stuck in his head since before he could even speak in coherent sentences.

He opened his mouth wide to catch a stream of water coming down from one of the grates then immediately squealed and spit it out when he realized it wasn't water.

As he brushed off his tongue a chorus of squeaks came up from his feet. He looked down and smiled at the congregation of rats that had formed around him, rubbing against his ankles like dogs begging for food.

"Good afternoon fellow sewer-living creatures," he greeted, kneeling to pat each individual one on the head.

"Hello Splinter 2, Jerry, Speedy G…" He pursed his lips thoughtfully and picked up the third rat, scratching it beneath its chin. "You know what Speedy G? I changed my mind. From now on your name is Leo 2... Why's that you ask? Well Speedy—I mean Leo 2, you're exactly like Splinter 2. See?"

He set the rat down next to its kin and nodded satisfactorily. "Now try not to get a big head about it. Just because you're a Leo doesn't mean you should boss everybody around."

He stood. "Play nice you guys."

He began to walk away, taking a breath to resume his humming, but stopped when the voice that drifted through the tunnel was not his own.

It was a soft voice, tender and melodic—feminine. And it was singing a lullaby—not the same lullaby, but one that was unmistakably such and had nearly the same melody as his own. He glanced up toward the grate he was standing under and saw the silhouette of a woman hovering just next to it, rocking on her toes as she waited for something. His nose took in the heavy presence of food—there must have been a cart on the street just off the curb.

For a moment he didn't know what to do. He simply stood there and listened as she sang, squinting up at her though he could not see her face.

"Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop

When the wind blows, the cradle will rock

When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall

And down will come baby, cradle and all."

He smiled as the tune floated gracefully through the tunnel, adding a touch of elegance that the shadows in the sewers had probably never enveloped before. He waited for her to keep going but for a moment she was silent, standing still with her arms wrapped around her torso, probably waiting as patiently as she could. She hummed for a second, nothing very coherent, which was faint in the gust of wind that brushed past. And then she began to sing again, this time a little more quietly. It was the same song, but with a slightly tweaked melody and different lyrics, and it made his heart stop.

"I'll love you forever

I'll like you for always

As long as I'm living,

my baby you'll be."

"That's my song!" he gasped, immediately slapping his hands over his mouth and backing into the shadows when he realized he'd just shouted. He watched her look over both shoulders but never down.

He pulled in a breath through his nose, and suddenly he was running, scattering the rats and turning corners until he found the nearest manhole and climbed up, throwing the cover to the side and not bothering to put it back on.

He ran to the mouth of the alley, keeping close to the wall and peeked around the corner. There was a food cart about a block away with a line of about four people standing around it, one of which was a woman, waiting alone in the middle of the line with her back turned to him.

Heart beating a funny cadence behind his plastron, he doubled back, jumped up on the fire escape and climbed to the roof. He darted across it, jumping the next alley over, and crawled up to the ledge on his knees to peek over the side. The cart was just below now, but he was no closer to seeing her face than he'd been a block away.

She stepped up in the line as the man in front of her glanced at his watch and walked away without ordering anything. She turned her head to watch him leave but her face was obscured by a sheet of soft brown hair that rippled away from her shoulders with the wind. She faced the cart before it stopped and Mikey let out a frustrated breath. There was no way he could get any closer. So he waited while she waited and leaned farther forward when she finally ordered her food, paid, and walked away with a gyro wrapped in aluminum. He followed along the edge of the building as she strolled down the sidewalk, eating as she went.

She was wearing a modest, blue, summer dress and flat shoes. Her hair reached down to about the middle of her back and she carried a small purse that looped around her neck with a long strap and moved with her hip as she walked. She wore no jewelry that he could see, and from the way she moved and presented herself he guessed she was in her early thirties. All this…and he could not see her face.

He followed her for about five blocks to a decent neighborhood, the street lined with sandwiched apartment buildings and a little convenience store on the corner. She walked to the very center of the row of apartments, across the street from where he now watched her, and skipped up the steps then stopped to dig around in her purse.

A whistle sounded from the sidewalk beneath him. She looked up, and when she turned around a gust of wind blew her hair back behind her and he finally got a full frontal view of her.

It brought him to his knees, and he stared in bewilderment at her fair face, kind brown eyes, and warm, white smile.

She waved to whoever had gotten her attention and he just barely heard another woman's voice shouting, "See you at the cookout next week, Jen!"

"Yeah see you!" the woman shouted back. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and proceeded to dig through her purse for her keys and then let herself in the building.

He knelt there for a long time, staring at the door she'd just disappeared through, sinking further down on his knees until he was fully sitting on the cemented rooftop. He listened to the whistle of the wind and the tempo of his heart as it fluttered with a child-like rhythm in his chest, so full and confused and delighted all at once.

He didn't know what to do, how to move, what to think. What _was_ he supposed to do when, after fifteen years of knowing she was out there somewhere, and a full year of searching, he finally found the mother he'd been looking for?


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry guys. It's proving really challenging to keep up with this one, but I don't plan on abandoning it. Promise :)**

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><p>"I found her!"<p>

His brothers were standing with their heads together in the pit when he burst into the lair. Splinter was nowhere in sight and neither were April and Casey. They must have gone home already, which then meant that Splinter was probably in the kitchen making tea, preparing to turn in for the night. Mikey hadn't realized it had gotten so late.

His brothers stopped talking all at once and looked up at him, all immediately narrowing their eyes with chastising glares.

Leo, placing superior, leader fists on his hips, stepped in front of the other two. "Mikey," he snapped. "I said ten minutes."

"We were about to charge the city looking for you," Raph growled.

"Dudes, I'm fine," Mikey said, completely brushing off their folded arms and annoyed attitudes. He was good at blocking out their negativity and brightening the room with his own personal bubble of constant good news.

He jumped down on the cushioned bench, putting himself eye-level with Donnie and slightly above Raph and Leo, also with his hands on his hips, though not in the way Leo did it. "You're not going to believe this!"

"Are you listening?" Leo said. "You can't just disappear to the surface in the middle of the day without telling us."

"Someone could've seen your disgusting face." Raph stepped forward, placing a hand on Leo's shoulder as though to push him into the background. "They could've taken you to a government lab in the middle of the desert and sawed you open to pull out your intestines and dissolve them in acid."

Donnie grimaced and shifted. Leo rolled his eyes and patted Raph's shell.

"Thank you, Raph. The point is Mike—"

"I get the point Leo," Mikey interrupted, practically bouncing on his toes. "But you're not gonna believe what I found!"

All three of his brothers groaned.

"If it's another 'cool-looking' bug, I swear…" Raph said.

"Mikey we told you about trying to keep more pets," Leo added tiredly.

The youngest shook his head. "Not a pet—a woman!"

His three brothers blinked, staring up at him with perfectly round eyes.

"You've got to be kidding me," Raph said.

"You guys," Mikey exclaimed. "I found our mom!"

Leo dropped his head back with another groan. Raph buried his face in his palm and shook his head. Donnie simply sighed, his shoulders sagging slowly…All reactions—if he was going to be honest with himself—Mikey was completely expecting.

"Please," Raph moaned. "Don't start with this again."

"I'm serious this time," he said, hopping back out of the pit and starting for his room. "It's really her! Come here, I'll show you."

Leo, Raph, and Donnie followed tiredly, shoulders sloping, feet dragging, all with familiar, exasperated looks on their faces. They did this quite often; Mikey wasn't hindered by it. But he did note when they stopped in his doorway to watch him toss pizza boxes and comics around his room, half-burying himself beneath his bed.

"Mikey, we talked about this," he heard Donnie say with strained patience. "We _don't _have a human mother. It's biologically impossible. We're turtles. We came from a turtle and hatched from eggs. Our only connection to the human race is Master Splinter."

Mikey wasn't listening. He wiggled out from beneath his bed and popped a pepperoni in his mouth that he peeled off of his chin. He peeked through his display of action figures, scratched the top of his head—now ignoring Leo's lecture on letting go of childhood fantasies—then realized he'd left it under his pillow.

He pounced on his bed, threw off the pile of stained, deflated pillows he slept on—every single one of which hit Raph in the face and earned him a growl—and picked up the book. He flipped to the page of the woman peeking over her baby's bed and crossed the room to shove the picture in his eldest brother's face, interrupting Leo's speech.

"Look! See? She looks exactly like that."

Leo touched a finger to the top of the book and pushed it down, away from his face, his lips pressed in a straight, unconvinced line and his eyes gazing at his little brother flatly. He opened his mouth, but Raph got there first.

"That's great, Mike," said the turtle in red sarcastically. "Did you find Uncle Sam too?"

"You don't even know who that is," Donnie mumbled under his breath.

Raph shot him a glare. "Shut up."

"You guys aren't listening," Mikey exclaimed, interrupting his brothers' banter. He hated it when they argued at all, what was more during a moment he was trying to make a point.

"We hear you Mikey," Leo said. "It's just—"

"We don't know what simpler way to put it to get you to understand," Donnie whined.

"Guys, I'm telling you, this is our mom. Remember D, when I told you this was what I thought she looked like when we were kids?"

"You still _are _a kid," Raph grumbled.

"That has nothing to do with our mother Mikey," Donnie argued, his voice rising in pitch as it often did when he began to lose his cool. "That's a book—a fictional story some man wrote so that his kids could have another bedtime story to read. That woman doesn't exist; he made her up."

"Yes she does, I saw her. She had the hair and the face and she was wearing a blue dress…"

"Mikey…"

"And she was singing the song Donnie. _This _song. Exactly the way you used to sing it."

"But…"

"It all makes sense, D. This has to be our mo—"

"Mikey, shut up!"

Mikey blinked as a bubble of excited air got stuck in his chest and then deflated. He gripped the book and brought it close to his chest as though to protect it, only vaguely aware that Leo and Raph were also gaping at Donnie with creases in their masks.

Donatello clutched at the strap running across his plastron, as visibly shocked by his own outburst as the rest of them were.

A couple of heartbeats passed and Mikey's purple-banded brother finally blinked over flushed cheeks. Donnie bowed his head as though to hide his face and hurried from the room without saying another word.

Leo frowned. His blue eyes glanced toward Mikey almost as though Donnie's sudden snap was somehow his own doing, then he exchanged a glace with Raph and followed their awkward, normally passive, brother out of the room.

Mikey gripped the book tighter and turned his eyes on his only remaining older brother.

Raph always seemed to be the last one there.

"I thought he'd be excited," Mikey mumbled, shoulders sinking.

Raph hesitated, and Mikey noticed. He always noticed.

This wasn't the first time Donnie had ever snapped at one of them with surprising aggressiveness, and it was bound not to be the last. But, unlike Raph, Donnie picked his outbursts carefully. If he lost his patience or became truly angry, then it was for a reason. Emotionally, Donnie was very vulnerable and very open, and Raph, though he was the most temperamental of the four of them, didn't deal well with eruptions like these.

Raph didn't do emotional stuff; that was a known fact. He became easily uncomfortable around sensitivity—ironically enough—as though he was allergic to it. It always revealed the cracks in his bravado and made him fidgety and desperate to deny that he was at all sympathetic, though to this he often caved. Inside that shell of his, he was even mushier than the rest of them, which was why Mikey never minded that his red-banded brother was always the last one standing around.

"You know Donnie," Raph said, shrugging uncaringly though his voice was thin and uncertain. "He has a hard time believing stuff unless you can prove it with science and evidence and crap."

Mikey furrowed his brow as this sunk in, and then he immediately lit back up, as though there was a little person somewhere inside him whose job it was to flick the "it's okay" switch back on anytime it was pushed down.

He widened a smile on his brother. "So I just have to bring him to see her!"

Raph's eyes went wide. "That…That's not exactly what I—"

"Thanks Raph!" Mikey exclaimed, pecking his brother on the cheek and skipping from the room.

Of course, why hadn't he thought of that himself? They'd need proof. He had to _show_ them she was real; they weren't just going to take his word for it. They never did. And if he could convince Donnie, Leo and Raph would automatically believe it to.

Mikey bounced across the lair toward Donnie's lab where the door had been left partially open. Leo was hunched over his elbows on the lab table, standing next to and looking toward Donnie who was leaning on the table too with his hands on either side of his head which shook in a denial kind of way.

Mikey paused at the door.

"There's just nothing left," Donnie was saying. "I've tried everything I can think of to explain to him, but he's not _getting_ it."

The little turtle in orange frowned and found himself stepping to the side, suddenly wary of being spotted listening in on this conversation.

Leo's sigh was evident…As it always was. "Well Donnie, if you've done everything...maybe he just needs to figure this one out on his own." He shrugged. "Mike's just like that you know? Sometimes he has to experience things for himself before he gets it."

Donnie turned his head, regarding Leo with a glossy look of pain to eyes. "He's going to get hurt Leo," he said quietly.

Mikey swallowed and bit the inside of his lip. He he'd never heard such concern for him coming from Donnie's mouth like that, and he wasn't sure he liked it all that much either.

Leo reached up and patted Donnie's shell. "Well…If that happens, then we'll be here for him," he said, shrugging his shoulders though it looked as though it pained him to do so.

Donnie grimaced and Mikey could no longer look. He turned away with a fresh knot in his chest and walked heavily back toward his room.

His brothers didn't believe him - and they weren't going to.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry lovely readers, life is so inconvenient sometimes. Plus, writer's block is pretty much the worst. Big big thank you to Tigergirl for helping me out there :) **

**Anyhow, here's a relatively decent-sized chapter for you guys. As always, let me know what you think.**

* * *

><p>He followed her.<p>

It wasn't creepy, he told himself. He just wanted to get to know her without scaring her.

He remembered—under a shudder—the guy with the cat.

There was no way he'd make that same mistake again, especially not if his brothers were going to shoot him those we-told-you-so faces.

They never gave him enough credit. He wasn't a complete idiot. Sure he fumbled things up sometimes, didn't take the time out to think and rationalize like Donnie and Leo, but who ever said he had to? (Raph certainly didn't.) Mikey knew how to be stealthy and that was what was important.

She never saw him.

And he learned a great many things about her this way. The first being that she was a morning person.

He had to admit this was a trait he wasn't particularly fond of. It took him three days to figure out what time she normally left her apartment. And by the time he figured it out, he was getting into major trouble for skipping out on training at six o'clock in the morning. He heard the most chastising from Leo for that one, which he didn't mind. Leo was easy to ignore most times.

She liked to get coffee in the mornings from a little shop on the corner called Drips.

He wished he knew what kind, but he could never get close enough to know. He simply had to be content watching her through the window from across the street. She always sat at the same table, closest to the door. Sometimes she'd bring a book with her to read, other times she'd talk with the older, dark-skinned woman that worked there. But mostly she watched the people walking past the window as she sipped on her coffee placidly.

After about an hour, she'd leave and walk five blocks over to the place she worked at—a day care with a little orange door. The first time he'd followed her there, it took him about an hour to come to the conclusion that he wouldn't be able to find her after she entered the building, but every day at about ten o'clock she'd walk out of the side door, following a horde of children about four and five years old, as they barreled out onto the small playground sandwiched between the day care center and a salon.

There was one kid who seemed particularly smaller than the rest and didn't seem to like running around in circles and being poked with stick by the other kids. He had a head of curly hair and round glasses that seemed much too big for his face.

Excluding his size, he kind of reminded Mikey of Donnie.

The woman—Jennifer—every day would ask this little one if he felt like joining the other kids, and when he shook his head, holding onto her hand with both of his, she'd smile kindly and walk with him over to one of the benches where they'd sit down and she'd open up whatever book she'd brought out with her that day: _Tacky the Penguin_, _Where the Wild Things Are_, _When You Give a Mouse a Cookie_, _Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day_.

Mikey would hide in the shrubs on the other side of the fence, directly behind that bench and listened with his knees pulled up to his chest, sometimes staring at the ground as he envisioned what the pictures looked like, but most times watching the back of her head, waiting for that occasional moment that she looked off to the side and he could catch a glimpse of her face.

In the afternoons, around two or three o'clock, depending on how long she felt like sticking around, she left the daycare and walked to that same food cart he'd first seen her standing at.

She loved gyros—the spicy ones—and he didn't know why that got a smile from him.

Most times after this she'd walk home and he'd leave her alone for the day, finally deciding that he should probably get back home and suffer the wrath of his brothers and sensei. Other times, she'd walk around for a while, wander in and out of shops, stop to talk with people who were sitting around in corners and on steps with trash bags and grocery carts by their sides.

She seemed a very social person. She always smiled, even when there was no one around. He witnessed her taking a taxi maybe twice and the subway once; she walked everywhere. And she was constantly singing to herself, mostly lullabies and nursery rhymes—the same ones that Donnie used to teach to Mikey when they were younger.

She had a lot of friends, but no husband, and no child of her own it seemed. But the way she interacted with the children at the day care and the one little boy that reminded him of Donnie, he had no doubt in his mind that she'd be the best mother there was…which was why it only made sense that this be the woman he'd been looking for—_his_ mother.

The more he followed her around, the more he learned about her, the more he was convinced. She had all the traces of every single one of his siblings, including himself—not to mention knowing all of the things Donnie had taught him, reading the same books, singing the same songs. There was no way this couldn't be her.

* * *

><p>"Donnie?" he said when he returned home one evening.<p>

He'd just escaped Leo's warning of going to tell Master Splinter that he'd been gone again—though Mikey was sure the old rat was already perfectly aware.

"Hmm?" Donnie hummed, tongue poking out, goggles over his eyes as he used a blow torch on the toaster.

Mikey vaguely wondered if the notorious tattle-tale in blue had gone to tell their sensei yet that Donnie was stealing the kitchen appliances again.

"Where did you learn all those songs and stuff you taught me when we were little?"

The flickering blue-white light vanished and Donatello peeked up at him—or at least turned his head in Mikey's direction. The little turtle couldn't tell where exactly his brother was looking though his goggles.

"What songs?" he asked.

"You know, the lullabies and stuff. Like the one with the spider, and the one with the cradle that falls out of the tree, and the one from the book."

There was the faintest hint of a grimace in Donnie's cheeks, as though he knew why Mikey was asking. And why wouldn't he? Mikey had come to understand long ago that it was okay to assume his brother in purple knew everything—because he basically did—which was unfortunate sometimes because it was hard to surprise him with information.

"Everybody knows those, Mikey."

"Yeah but everybody was taught them by their parents and stuff. Where did _you_ learn?"

Donnie pushed his goggles to the top of his head and a crease formed on his brow. "_I _learned them from my parent too," he said, as though offended. "Don't you remember Master Splinter singing to us? He _was_ human once, you know. He grew up on Japanese lullabies mostly, but I asked him if he knew American ones once and he taught me. He wasn't raised in a box—or the sewers for that matter."

Mikey blinked. "Sensei _sings_?"

Donnie sighed. "Yes, Mikey. Or at least he _can_; he doesn't much anymore since we grew up. I suppose I did develop memories a lot earlier than the rest of you," he muttered to himself as he replaced his goggles and turned back to mutilating the toaster.

"D?"

"What?"

"Will you come and see her?"

Mikey watched Donnie's shoulders sink. He didn't answer for a while.

He rocked forward in his chair and pursed his lips in that awkward way he did when he had something to say but couldn't effectively get the words to come out. He didn't look at Mikey when he finally spoke.

"Not to say I'm not curious, or that I don't care, but…Mikey, I just _can't_."

Michelangelo bit the inside of his bottom lip to keep it from poking out. "Why not?"

Donnie sighed through his nose. After another moment of silence he pulled the goggles from his head, setting them on the table as he stood, and looked down at Mikey with troubled eyes.

Donatello always towered over him, but sometimes, with the looks given through that purple mask of his, Mikey felt like that gap wasn't so big.

"I…" Donnie's eyes shifted and he shuffled his feet before looking back at Mikey and breathlessly confessing, "I want a mother too, Mikey. But just because you wish for something, doesn't mean it's going to appear, no matter how much you want it."

Michelangelo gave his brother a comforting smirk. "How d'you know if you never try it, D?"

Donnie didn't smile. "I'm serious Mikey. I _can't _put my faith in something like that. I don't want to be let down."

Mikey continued to smile, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You won't be bro. She's amazing."

"She's a human," Donnie said factually, a glaze of detachment coming across his eyes. He plucked his younger brother's hand off his shoulder. "We're turtles."

The orange-banded terrapin rolled his eyes. "Dude, I thought we already went through this. It doesn't matter—"

"Mikey,_ please_ try to understand," Donnie whined.

The little turtle bunched up his nose and took a step away from Donnie's reach, suddenly annoyed. "Why do_ I_ always gotta be the one to understand somethin'? Why can't _you_ understand for once?"

Donnie furrowed his brow as though what his little brother had just said made no sense, but Mikey was used to that and so didn't stop to listen to his older brother try to correct him.

"Not everything has to be all scientifical Donnie, why don't you just trust your gut this time?"

Donnie looked down at him cynically, one brow raised. "My gut, Mikey, is saying the exact same thing that I've been _trying _to tell you. We _don't_. Have. A human. Mother!"

"Well then your gut's totally wrong bro!" Mikey countered.

"I'm not wrong," Donnie scoffed indignantly. "I'm never wrong."

"Oh yeah?" Michelangelo turned on his heel and started marching for the door of the lab. "We'll see about that!"

"Mikey," Donnie groaned.

Michelangelo ignored him. He was already marching down the steps with his fists clenched by his sides when Donnie shouted after him.

"Please, don't do anything stupid!"

Mikey gritted his teeth and kicked a pillow that had somehow found its way out of the pit. It flew across the room and landed by Raph's feet where the red-banded turtle paused his attack on the lifeless dummy. He glanced down at the pillow and then up at Mikey.

"What's the matter with _you_?" he demanded, not particularly meanly.

"Donnie's an idiot," Mikey pouted, stuffing his arms across his plastron and plopping down on the bench. He didn't even realize that Leo was in the common room too, glancing over his shoulder from where he sat in front of the television.

"You said _Donnie_?" Leo said.

"Yeah sure," Raph snorted, returning to punching the dummy. "The resident genius is an idiot."

"He still says there's no way we have a human mom," Mikey whined.

"That's because there isn't, Mikey," Leo said, almost in a patient kind of way considering the earful Mikey had gotten not too long ago about following this supposed "mother" around.

Mikey felt the corners of his mouth dropping again.

"Look, Mike, trust the stupid smart guy okay?" Raph grunted, not looking back or pausing his work out. "Donnie may have a big head, but he_ does _know what he's talking about."

Mikey coiled on the inside.

That's right—they didn't believe him either. He sighed and didn't say anything else about it. There was no point. He'd go see his mother the next day and that was something to look forward to. He didn't need his brothers—didn't need their doubt, and their pompous attitudes about knowing better than him. If they wanted to be that way, fine. Well he had a mother and they didn't.


	6. Chapter 6

He'd forgotten about the fourth of July.

It wasn't like him to forget holidays, even with as little as most of them had to do with him and his family.

Donnie called it Independence Day—the day that America won its freedom or something like that. It had taken a few years for Mikey to fully understand. The concept of there being hundreds of countries outside of their own was odd to him, especially when they were younger and their world had been confined to the sewers of New York City. Even the idea of being one of fifty _states_ was hard to understand. And then to say that they were considered part of a "free nation" was the cherry on top of all the confusion. Until Splinter had allowed them to venture to the surface for the first time, he'd never felt very "free."

But, because July 4th—or _Independence Day_—was a holiday, Mikey had always insisted they celebrate it.

He insisted on celebrating _every _holiday. However, this year, its approach had somehow slipped his mind—maybe because he'd been so involved in trying to learn as much as he could about his mother—about Jennifer.

So when he'd started for the turnstiles to leave the lair that afternoon, Leo stopped him with his demanding, cut-to-it voice. "Where're you going?"

Mikey pursed his lips. His blue-banded older brother had been a royal pain in his shell lately.

"Up top," he said, turning toward his leader innocently. _Innocence_ was his God-given gift…

Leo scoffed. "Um, not today you're not."

…Not to say that it always worked.

Mikey dropped his hands heavily. "Why?" he whined.

"Because it's the fourth of July, airhead," Raph said from behind his manga as he lounged on his favorite bean chair.

Mikey's brow furrowed. "Nah, can't be _today_…Really?"

"Yes," said Donnie, who'd just stepped into the doorway of his lab. "It is the fourth day of the month of July—i.e. the fourth of July. Independence Day."

Mikey pursed his lips, turning back to his eldest brother in blue. "So?"

"So," Leo stressed. "So, there are_ thousands_ of people walking around up top, probably three times more than normal…"

"Actually, it's most likely more like two point—"

Leo shot up a hand to cut Donnie off and then ignored the fact that the purple-wearing turtle had ever commented to begin with. "Plus it's the middle of the day and you've got like a gazillion percent higher chance of being seen…It doesn't matter Donnie!" he shouted when Donatello opened his mouth—probably to correct their eldest brother's statistics.

"I'm sorry Mikey," Leo continued, his voice peculiarly flat. "_No_ one's going up top today."

"Your stalking's just gonna havta wait til tomorrow," Raph added.

Mikey twisted his lips and balled his fists as a flood of warmth invaded his freckled cheeks. "I'm not stalking her!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Raph quipped, flipping a page lazily. "What do _you_ call following people around without their consent?"

Mikey paused, pressing his lips together in thought. "I call it…" He tapped his nose and then tilted up his chin and stuffed his arms across his plastron. "Courtesy," he said with a definitive nod. "You want me to _tell _her I'm following her?"

"Yes please do. That way you'll just scare her off and we can finally get over this are-you-my-mommy phase."

Mikey bristled. "You're just jealous cuz _I_ got a mom and you don't!"

The room stilled and Raph finally lowered his manga, peeking over the top with an arch to his brow as he joined the other two in staring across the lair at their smallest brother.

Michelangelo's eyes shifted—not _quite _getting why they'd all stopped to gawk, but he was sure if he just continued staring back something would reveal itself…And it did, when Donnie opened his mouth.

"Oh my god," he mumbled, gazing at Mikey as though he was a Kraang droid standing in the middle of the lair. "It's worse than I thought."

Mikey pinched his lips to the side, not entirely sure what Donnie meant, but that was no big deal. He was the MVP of changing the subject. "Sensei!" he shouted. "Donnie's been stealing the toaster again!"

Donatello jumped and immediately began shrinking backward. "I was going to put it back!" he countered defensively before rushing back into his lab.

Well that took care of one. Fortunately, Mikey was also the MVP at pretending he didn't notice whenever his brothers exchanged glances and carried silent conversations about him behind his back—which was exactly what Raph and Leo were doing.

"Well, if you'll excuse me," he said loudly, stretching his triceps and heading toward the kitchen, still with his chin in the air. "I feel like taking another crack at the P-Shake. Anybody else want one?"

His two eldest brothers looked away quickly and shook their heads with a chorused, "I'm good" before turning back to what they'd been doing before.

_That's what I thought, _Mikey mused to himself before retreating far into the kitchen.

* * *

><p>He waited until ten o'clock that night.<p>

Usually by then they were on patrol; however seeing as this was a special occasion that forced them all to endure an extra four hours' worth of one another underground, they reverted back to the normal habits of their days before visiting the surface. And on those days at around ten o'clock Donnie was usually lost in whatever universe he escaped to whenever he was working on a project. Raph tended to be conked out across the bench in the pit, TV blaring and flashing white-blue light across his face if it wasn't hidden beneath a magazine. Leo often could be found settling himself down to meditate before going to bed, which was thankfully something he did in the dojo. And Splinter was old—he usually turned in pretty early.

So Mikey was completely in the clear to leave the lair without detection and headed straight for the surface.

He had played his part well up until then—shrugging off not being able to see Jennifer that day like it was no big deal, insisting on making something special for dinner, and dragging his family into the common area to watch _Macy's Firework Spectacular_ on TV as they listened to the explosions going off overhead. He'd suffered through Donnie's annual history lesson, joined Raph in flicking popcorn at the genius's head until Splinter whacked them both over the head with his staff, and he'd even indulged in a little in-house baseball before one of Raph's infamous "flaming curve balls" ricocheted off the wall and cracked the screen on Atomic Robo-X.

Now, though the family fun was over, there was still one more family member out there to visit before the night was done.

He'd remembered—only after recalling that it was the 4th of July—the mention of a cookout that Jennifer was supposed to attend. If he was lucky, he'd catch her on her way home.

So that was where he went, hopping up on the same rooftop he usually stood guard on across the street from her apartment.

The block was rather quiet for a holiday, but then again it was a significant distance from Time's Square where most of the action took place during these times.

He contented himself by swinging his feet over the ledge and whistling into the cool summer breeze, playing with his nunchucks, and sticking his tongue out with a squint to one eye as he connected the dots in the nighttime sky with his thumb.

About an hour had gone by before she made an appearance at the end of the block, walking contentedly by her lonesome as usual, combing her hair over her shoulder with her fingers—probably singing to herself, though he wasn't close enough to hear.

He perched himself on the ledge readily—prepared to leap back and out of sight if he needed to.

This was going to be a short visit, unfortunately. He'd learn nothing more about her by watching her walk down the block and disappear into her home, but any moment that he got to see her was good enough for him.

Plus, it made him feel like a guardian of sorts—hovering over the block from a distance, not physically _with_ her, but watching over her, protecting her as she traversed the streets alone, keeping an eye out for dark figures that might emerge from the shadows…figures like the ones creeping up on her now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Don't hate me after this one guys. I'll try to update as soon as I can. But thanks for sticking with me so far! Only about two more chapters left.**

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><p>Mikey narrowed his eyes and gripped the edge of the building tightly, practically suspended above the sidewalk as he leaned forward to peer through the shadows at the two masculine figures closing in on Jennifer's back.<p>

His heart dropped from his chest and he stood, but he could no faster move his feet than the men could reach out with long thieving arms and encased Jennifer in their clutches, practically tackling her to the ground.

She gave a strangled cry that was briefly cut short, and she and the two men disappeared in only a few seconds' time, melting into the forbidding darkness of the closest alley.

Mikey's throat tightened, the tips of his fingers growing cold with immediate fear. He did not spare himself even a second's hesitation before shooting across the building, nimbly sprinting along the ledge.

Once he was directly across the street, he leapt with a flip off the roof and allowed himself to fall toward the ground. He landed hard, but upright on the sidewalk and took off across the street, narrowly missing a taxi that barreled past and honked viciously.

The sounds of a struggle only came clear when he reached the mouth of the alley where his eyes took in the scene.

Jennifer was cocooned like a butterfly in the sticky arms of one of the thugs, his large, probably dirty, hand squishing her cheeks to keep her quiet as his accomplice dumped the contents of her purse out on the ground.

He grinned wickedly when a wallet fell out and hit the ground heavily.

"Alright, honey. Let's see wutcha got."

"If you got enough we'll let ya go," sneered the man holding her, his smirk nearly touching her ear.

"If not," sighed the man who was now thumbing through her wallet. He smiled without looking away. "Well I guess you'll have to forfeit somethin' else."

Jennifer wiggled furiously and turned her head to the side. The man holding her shouted angrily as she bit down on his hand.

She successfully ripped herself from his clutches and swung a foot up between his legs. He doubled over with a breathless shriek and she turned to run but was snatched by the second man who yanked her back, nearly throwing her to the ground.

Mikey shot into the alley, used the doubled-over man's back as a springboard, leapt up and spun a kick at the man clutching Jennifer's wrist.

She squealed and dropped to her knees, covering her head as though to protect herself.

"What the—?"

Mikey didn't give the now-standing man a chance to finish his exclamation. He reached him in two swift steps, punched him flat in the face, snatched a fistful of his shirt before he could fall backward, yanked him forward, kneed him in the gut, and then tossed him across the alley where he landed next to his partner who was groaning and shakily pushing himself up on his hands and knees.

He looked toward Mikey, one palm pressed against his temple, and his eyes widened. He shook his partner's shoulder frantically, grabbing at his shirt.

"Jimmy!" he exclaimed.

Jimmy groaned in response, now clutching at his bloody nose and struggling to sit up. He too looked over at the orange-banded turtle and grew wide-eyed. "What the freak is that?!"

Mikey took a threatening step forward. "You want some more? Huh?" He yanked out his nunchucks and twirled them expertly, giving the two thugs a fluid demonstration, releasing the sickle blade on his kusarigama when he struck a ready pose, eyes narrowed.

They jumped and scrambled over each other as they struggled to their feet with a cry and ran from the alley, pushing one another out of the way to be the first one gone.

Mikey smiled to himself satisfactorily, returning his weapons to his belt. He looked over in Jennifer's direction, then realized he was standing out in the open and ducked into the shadows behind a dumpster just as she sat up on her knees and glanced around her.

Unfortunately, he still had a ways to go before he could be as stealthy as his sensei and ended up throwing his shell back against the dumpster with a little too much force. It created an echoing impact of clanging metal that scared a stray cat and sent it streaking for the mouth of the alley with a hiss.

Jennifer gasped and snapped her gaze toward the dumpster, peering in his general direction though he knew she couldn't really see him.

"Hello?" she called.

His heart fluttered against his plastron and he squeezed his kneepads as he held his legs to his chest, craning his neck around the edge of the dumpster to peek at her.

She glanced nervously over her shoulder, her hands cupped together by her chest as though fear still coursed through her limbs. When she saw that her attackers had indeed disappeared, she looked back in Mikey's direction.

"I…I think they're gone," she stammered, as though trying to coax him out of hiding, as though _he_ was the one that was afraid, which—wasn't a far cry from the truth, but it wasn't the _thugs _he was afraid of.

He watched Jennifer lean forward, narrowing her eyes, pressing a palm to the ground, trying to get a better look. "Are you alright? They didn't hurt you did they?"

She must not have seen him before, when he jumped in on the struggle. She must've kept her head covered through the whole fight—or, while he scared the two men away…It couldn't really be considered a fight. They were pansies.

He swallowed dryly, trying not to breathe too quickly. He wanted to answer, but he didn't know if he should. What if she came closer? What if she actually saw him? Would she really be frightened?

He would like to think not, but experience told him otherwise. He didn't want to scare her.

But if he didn't answer, she might conclude that he _was_ hurt and attempt to come to his aid. Then she would definitely see him.

He bit his lip nervously then took a trembling breath. "I'm okay…Are _you_ okay?"

He watched her blink in surprise at his voice, a slight smile lifting her cheeks. "Yes, I'm fine...Thanks to you." She tilted her head curiously. "Can I ask your name?"

His pulse slowed a little. Her voice was so gentle, so polite. He felt himself responding even before he could decide whether or not it was a good idea. "Michelangelo," he said softly. He turned his head a little more, but was careful not to leave the shadows. "Everybody calls me Mikey though."

He watched her smile grow. "Michelangelo," she repeated. "That's a lovely name. I bet you were named after the artist. He was one of my favorites when I was in college."

Mikey's cheeks burned, and he felt his breathing temper down to a normal pace again.

"How old are you, Mikey?"

His muscles loosened. "Fifteen," he responded.

Her smile was so accepting. "I thought you sounded young," she said. "You're very brave for teenager. You seemed to know what you were doing back there. Do you save little old women like me very often?"

He furrowed his brow. "You're not old."

She chuckled.

She had a very soothing laugh.

"Thank you…Is there a reason you're hiding from me, Mikey? I won't hurt you." She laughed softly again. "Though I'm sure I probably couldn't if I tried."

"It's not that," Mikey mumbled, he drew a little farther back, his pulse picking up again.

"Well, what is it? Is it an identity thing? Batman must never reveal that he's actually Bruce Wayne?"

He smiled to himself. "Something like that."

Her head titled to the opposite side. "Well, Mikey, you _have_ already told me your name."

His eyes widened and he slapped his forehead.

She giggled. "It's alright. I'm good at keeping secrets…Would it be alright if I saw the face of my rescuer? It's not every day I cross paths with a superhero."

"You think I'm a superhero?" he asked, slightly flattered…maybe a little more than slightly.

"What else would you be?"

"A ninja," he blurted out before slapping his hands over his mouth.

Her smile grew. "Ah, I see. Well that explains your ability to scare grown men away. Do you take martial arts?"

"Ninjistu."

"Wow," she breathed. "No wonder you're so brave. You really are a little ninja."

She spoke to him so kindly, so maternally, encouraging his responses, supporting his answers as though they were his entire reality, like a mother would a child who swore he was a king. He didn't mind that she spoke to him this way; he'd always wondered what it would be like to have a mother who spoke to him in such a manner.

He wanted to tell her more, but he knew he shouldn't. Leo would've slapped him twice already just for telling her his name. Raph would've slapped him for smiling at being called a superhero. Donnie would've been too afraid to speak in the first place.

"So is that a no?" Jennifer asked after a moment of silence.

"What?"

"I suppose ninjas aren't allowed to reveal their identities either."

"I really shouldn't."

She smiled, though there was a hint of disappointment in it.

His heart skipped a beat. "It's not that I don't want to," he said quickly. "It's just that—I don't really want to scare you."

The moment he said it, he knew he shouldn't have. He just earned himself slap number four—probably five, since he would've gotten one both from Leo _and _Raph for that.

"What do you mean?" Jennifer asked.

He felt his cheeks flush and curled his fists on his kneepads. "It's nothing. I just…I look a little different."

She chuckled. "Well if that's all you're worried about, Mikey, I can assure you I won't judge. Trust me, living in New York, I've come across a lot of strange-looking people in my time, and some of them are my best friends."

His heart gave a tug and he tensed his shoulders to his neck. "This is a little different."

"Hm…Is it acne?"

"No," he said. "I had that once, though." He shuddered. "It was awful."

"No kidding. Mine used to be really bad…Do you have big ears?"

He rubbed the sides of his head where no ears of any kind resided at all. "Uh…Not exactly."

She hummed thoughtfully, shifting into a more comfortable sitting position with her elbows on her knees. "I do."

He squinted at her. "No you don't."

"Thank you." She said, smiling softly. She gazed at the pavement for a moment and her smile widened. "You know, you're very sweet, Mikey. You must have very good parents."

"Yeah. My sen—my dad's pretty awesome."

She nodded. "So was mine. He passed away couple of years ago—heart attack. He lived a pretty full life though."

He grimace. "I'm sorry."

She smiled. "Me too…What about your mother?"

His heart dropped a significant distance and he heard his brothers' voices echoing in the back of his mind—telling him over and over again that this could not and would never be his mother, that he _had_ no mother—none of them did.

It wasn't until then that he understood the discomfort they must have felt every time he brought up the subject. For Jennifer to ask such a question—it twisted his stomach into knots.

He wasn't sure what he should say. She might grow wary if he claimed that he was so sure she _was_ his mother. Or else she'd laugh at him, shake her finger. _Silly, naïve, little boy_.

He felt a frown tugging on the corners of his lips. He drew his knees closer and looked down at them. "I don't have a mother," he said quietly. But these words seemed so wrong—even more so than they already were.

He heard her exhale, in such a way that might have been sympathetic. "Hm…Me neither."

He blinked and peeked over at her again. "What happened to her?"

She smiled sadly. "She went away when I was very young. I never really knew her."

"Oh," he said, looking toward the ground. "I never knew mine either." _Until now_, was what he didn't say.

"It seems we have some things in common."

He turned his eyes up to her again as she glanced at a silver watch on her arm.

"You know, Michelangelo, it's getting pretty late. Your father must be worried. Do you live far? I'd like to make sure you get home alright."

"I'll be okay," he said.

Her smiled dropped and her brow creased as though with concern. "I'm sure you will be," she said. "I'm not used to leaving kids alone, even ones as well practiced in self-defense as you. I really don't want you to run into any more trouble on your way home. I'm so grateful to you for saving me. But there tend to be an awful lot of bad people lurking around the city, especially at night. I don't want you to pick a fight with the wrong person. That could be dangerous."

_You have no idea_, he thought to himself. "I'll be fine, really. I walk around by myself all the time." _Sort of_.

"But this late at night?"

"Yeah."

Her brow furrowed further and she shook her head slightly. "Really Mikey, it would make _me_ feel better to know that you've gotten home alright. I owe you that much at least."

His heart began to stutter again. "It's really better if you don't, Jen."

She blinked. "How did you know my name?"

His eyes widened and he shrunk further into the shadows, cheeks now completely inflamed. "You uh…You told me."

She pursed her lips uncertainly, as though running back through their conversation in their mind, trying to remember when she'd told him her name. After a moment she seemed to put it to the side and looked back in his direction. "Why don't you come out from behind there, Michelangelo," she suggested.

He remained where he was, but his muscles coiled with the temptation.

Her smile returned. "I promise you, it'll be alright."

He stared, really wanting to believe in her words.

Maybe he could. Maybe it would be alright. She did say she wouldn't judge and she knew him by now—in a way. He'd saved her life. Murakami didn't reject them when he'd figured out they were turtles because they'd saved his life. They'd saved April and her dad and now they were family friends too. Maybe that was how it worked. People tended to accept them more when Mikey and his brothers proved that they were good, that they were there to help and protect people—like superheroes.

Maybe it _would_ be alright. He could try at least. And she was so nice, so gentle, so encouraging. And anyway, how was she ever supposed to be his mother if she didn't _know_ him, know his face, what he was, where he came from? If he wanted to continue talking to her, get to know her better in the future, allow her know _him_, he'd _have_ to show her.

He closed his eyes, hoping, _praying_ that she wouldn't mind his turtle-ness, convincing himself more and more by the minute that she wouldn't. She was his mother. Mother's always loved their children—no matter what.

He took in a long breath. "Promise you won't freak out?"

She made a noise, as though amused by this. "I promise, Mikey. You're alright."

His heart was practically beating in his brain, his breathing shallow again, fingers tingling and cold. He pushed himself to a crouch, waiting a moment, gathering courage, before he slowly stood to his full height and inched out of the shadows.

She gasped and shot up to her feet, stumbling backward, throwing a hand out as though to protect herself.

He stopped and held up his palms. "Please don't freak out."

She might've screamed, if only she had enough air to. Instead she began to hyperventilate, continuing to back away though she was unsteady on her feet. "You're—you're…"

He took a step forward. "I know. I'm—"

"No! No, please!" she exclaimed, practically falling backward. "D-Don't come any closer."

He stopped, heart hitting his plastron particularly hard. "I won't hurt you," he said desperately. "It's me, Mikey."

She shook her head, one hand now pressed against her mouth, eyes glossed with unadulterated fear. "I'm-I'm sorry," she gasped through her fingers. "I have to go."

And with these words she turned and ran, avoiding the contents of her purse still strewn across the alleyway—not even bothering to stop for them.

His pulse froze. "But…Wait!"

He took a few steps after her; she looked back over her shoulder but did not stop. In fact, she practically tripped over her own feet trying to get away fast enough, and soon she was out of sight—safe from his presence around the corner somewhere.

His shoulders dropped as he stood there, staring at the spot where she'd disappeared.

His arms slowly replaced themselves by his sides, fingers twitching as something foreign and painful spread throughout his chest, like a bubble of glass had just shattered behind his ribcage and the shards were piercing every organ and bit of flesh in close proximity.

He'd never really believed it before, but he guessed he understood now—hearts really could break.


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, no more waiting. I had to get through the last two weeks of my fall semester before I could actually get my head around anything extra, but that's over now! And, gah let me tell you, there's no better feeling. Anyhow, this and the next chapter are the last of this one!**

**Thank you soooo much for staying until the end. I know it took much longer than it should have, but I told you I wouldn't abandon it. And I'm glad I didn't :) **

**Alright lovies. Read and enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think!**

* * *

><p>Leo took two steps forward, turned on his heel and erased that distance. The next time he turned he took three steps and then unconsciously took himself back where he'd started again. He didn't realize he was pacing. In fact, he didn't take much notice to anything other than the endless ringing in his ear as he kept his T-phone pressed against his temple and continually tugged at the strap across his plastron with his free hand.<p>

He shook his head to himself after a moment and glanced over at his sensei as though by looking at his father he could assess whether or not they should be worried, but this gave him no answers. Splinter was standing completely still—_serenely _still—hands behind his back, eyes closed, breathing regularly as though he was meditating on the spot.

Leo switched his gaze to Donnie who was sitting on the bench with his own T-phone in his hands, occasionally tapping buttons on the screen as he tried to keep track of the signal and where it was going. He probably didn't realize either that his knee was bouncing up and down.

Raph, who was standing above the pit with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, groaned in a half angry half anxious kind of way. "That little weasel's gonna get it."

"Raphael…" Splinter said calmly. He didn't lift an eyelid.

Leo sighed and pulled the phone away from his face, hanging up for about the third or fourth time. "He's not picking up. We should go."

"Hang on, Leo," Donnie mumbled, squinting at the screen of his phone. "The tracker says he's…"

He cut himself short and looked up toward the entrance of the lair. Leo, Raph, and Splinter all followed his gaze and found Mikey slowly shuffling in past the turnstiles, rather uncaring to the fact that his whole family was standing around in the common area rather than asleep in their rooms as they should have been by now.

"Mikey!" Donnie exclaimed, jumping up.

Splinter's shoulders dropped as though his muscles were unraveling and Leo noticed his fingers curling behind his back though his expression didn't lose its serenity. Raph bristled.

"Mikey!" shouted the turtle in red, his tone far more chastising than Donnie's. "You little mutant, you can't _do_ that!"

He took a step forward, as though itching to run up and smack his little brother over the head as many times as it took for Mikey to understand his dislike for having to worry. But Leo got to him before he could move any farther forward and cut him short by sticking an arm out in front of him.

Something was not right.

"Mikey?" said the leader dubiously, blue eyes examining his baby brother's face.

The little turtle looked at no one. His normally wide and jubilant eyes now just stared at the floor as he practically slid his feet across the cement like his toes were too heavy to pick up off the ground. His shoulders were sloped and there was no trace of that annoyingly consistent smile he usually wore.

Leo's eyes searched his brother thoroughly, looking for lacerations, bruises, new grooves in his shell, anything that might indicate that Mikey had gotten himself into some kind of trouble, but he found nothing and this only made the coil in his muscles tighter.

"What happened, my son?" said Splinter, catching on that something was definitely off about their normally peppy bundle of sunshine.

Mikey stopped walking and when he looked up Leo felt an unquestionable drop to his stomach. The eyes on his brother's face were not what he would've normally attributed to Mikey—_Michelangelo_, the little freckle-faced kid that had a joke for everything. These blue eyes were brimming with pain that welted up in tears at the rims and made them narrow behind his orange mask as though he was fighting off an emotion he'd never known before.

The little turtle glanced at Splinter but didn't seem to have any words to say. And then his eyes fell on the brother he always looked to when he didn't know what to do.

Leo suddenly felt nauseous. He hoped he was wrong about what he realized had happened, but he didn't want to question it yet. He simply opened his arms and stood firm as his little brother forgot about hesitating and ran into him, throwing his arms around his waist. Leo closed his youngest sibling in a tight assuring embrace and tried not to think of the way Mikey desperately nuzzled his face into his neck and trembled with loud, broken-hearted sobs.

"It's okay, Mikey," Leo said quietly, exchanging a glance with Raph who looked utterly horrified.

Donnie walked up beside them and Leo watched him lean forward to match his level and place a gentle hand on top of Mikey's head.

"We're right here," he whispered.

* * *

><p>The next day, Splinter allowed his youngest son to sit in silence during training in front of the shelving unit that held Splinter's most cherished photograph of him and his late family. He never asked Mikey if he wanted to join his brothers, never demanded that he needed to, never questioned <em>why<em> he was sitting there. So Mikey knelt facing the wall for a full four hours undisturbed, staring up at the black and white picture with an unnatural force pulling down the corners of his mouth. He ignored his brothers tumbling around the room behind him though he knew they kept looking in his direction. None of them said anything either. And once Splinter called it quits for the day he sent the three of them away and finally walked up to the youngest turtle to kneel down beside him, though he still said nothing.

Mikey waited for a while longer, further ignoring how hollow his stomach felt before he finally looked up at his sensei who was staring at the photograph too, stroking his beard in that thoughtful way he always did.

"Sensei?"

Splinter turned his eyes down to Michelangelo without blinking. He said nothing, though Mikey knew he was expected to go on.

He took in a noisy breath. "Do you think Tang Shen would've liked us?"

Splinter looked away and stroked his beard a few more times, really giving it a thought before he glanced back down and very simply said, "No."

Mikey grimaced and his eyes fell to his knees as he bowed his head. But his sensei's arm found its way around his shoulders within seconds and when Mikey looked at him again his face was very close, amber eyes resolute.

"I know, for a fact, that she would have _loved_ you—all of you."

Mikey blinked and he felt his shoulders relax under his father's arm.

"She was very tender, a loving spirit if I ever knew one, always happy and content with her place in the world. For a long while there was no one I knew like her—the perfect person. And when I lost her, I was sure I would never again encounter such a compassionate soul."

A tender smile appeared beneath Splinter's fur and he squeezed Mikey's shoulder gently as he leaned in closer.

"Would you like to know a secret, my son?" he asked.

Mikey nodded.

"I _have _encountered such a soul."

"You have?"

Splinter nodded. "Yes." He looked back up at the photograph, this time with a very obvious smile on his face, a proud smile, but he didn't go on.

Mikey furrowed his brow. "Who is it?" he asked, wondering if there might possibly be another woman out there that could be what Tang Shen might've been for them if she was still alive.

Splinter's warm amber eyes met his son's again and he patted his shoulder. "It is you," he said simply.

Mikey furrowed his brow. "_Me_?"

The old rat nodded once in what might've been reminiscent of a bow. "Hai. You have something very special about you, Michelangelo. Something I have only ever seen in you and my wife. You are both incredibly compassionate—you _care_ for others, truly, sometimes in a way that I find difficult to duplicate. And it is this love for other people that allows you to accept your position in the world and reach out to those around you how might be in need of your kindness. It is a shame," Splinter sighed, "that this woman, Jennifer, did not get the chance to know how special you truly are. If you ask me, my son, it is her loss."

Mikey pinched his lips and looked down at the floor. "People are always gonna treat us like freaks aren't they?"

"The world is full of narrow-minded people, my son. They are simply afraid of learning that they live in a world that is different than they thought it was. It challenges their boundaries and sometimes they simply can't handle that…But, there are also times when you might run into the occasional person that can—like your friends April and Casey for example."

Mikey tilted his head to the side. "Yeah," he sighed. "But I wish everybody could."

Splinter nodded. "I agree with you whole-heartedly, my son. It is not easy being who we are, but if you would believe, we are extremely fortunate simply because we have each other. We may not be the ideal family…" He gestured toward the picture of him and his wife and daughter. "But imagine what life might be like if we lacked even what we have now. I know I could not imagine my life without you and your brothers…What about you?"

Mikey's stomach twisted at the thought of ever living a life without his sensei, without Leo, Raph, or Donnie. He shuddered and shook his head.

"There are many different kinds of families in the world, Michelangelo, none of which are the wrong kind. There are some with no mothers, some with no fathers, even some with no children, but they all make do and carry on in life with the love that they keep between what they _do_ have."

"I guess so." Mikey shrugged. "It's just that…It'd be nice to have a mom, you know—someone that would cook, and smile, and always give hugs, and love everybody, and keep us all together."

Splinter laughed. And it wasn't that inward type of chuckle that he usually kept to himself. It was an actual laugh, as though Mikey's words were the funniest he'd ever heard.

Michelangelo stared at him, wondering if he should be worried that his _sensei_ was actually laughing at something he'd said—and it wasn't even a joke.

"What?" he asked, tensing slightly.

Splinter shook his head. "You already do_ all_ of those things for us, my son."

Mikey blinked and opened his mouth, but found that he was at a loss. He pressed his lips together and stared at the rug beneath him thoughtfully.

"Did I not tell you you were just like Tang Shen?" Splinter said, still amused. "Mothers are not the only ones with the power to keep their families together. That is why you are so special—and so _very_ important to this family in particular."

Mikey felt his throat tighten and he tried to swallow but this only made it worse. He wasn't quite sure he remembered ever hearing his sensei say anything like this, and for some reason it made his chest feel so full that it hurt.

He grimaced, pressed his lips together, and then threw his arms around his father and buried his face in his chest which was warm and soft and carried a scent that would always smell like home to him.

Splinter chuckled and patted his son's head before curling his arms around him.


	9. Chapter 9

He gave the book one last lingering look and sighed. Its edges were wrinkled, the picture on the cover had begun to rub and flake away, its colors not nearly as bright as they'd once been. The spine was loose and the title page just behind the cover had been ripped down the middle. It was in a sad state, but still readable…and still hard to say goodbye to.

He brought it to his chest and held it close for a while, closing his eyes as he felt the heat from the sun on the back of his head and neck dappled and sporadic as the leaves and branches of the bush cut through its rays. He breathed in once, and then again, and then finally exhaled with some bit of finality.

If this was what he really wanted to do, he knew it had to be now, before anyone saw.

He pulled the book away from his plastron, kissed the top of it quickly, then popped out of the bushes, jumped over the fence and placed it carefully on the bench. He only allowed his gaze to linger on it for a few hesitant seconds before he hopped the fence again and returned to his spot nestled in the bushes. He curled in on himself, holding his knees to his chest and waited.

Only a few minutes had gone by when the side door opened and a flood of children poured out of it, all screaming and running and nearly tripping over their own feet as they scurried toward the swings and the slide and the square of blacktop where they could draw with chalk. All except for one shy little boy who clutched at Jennifer's hand and shook his head when she asked him the same question she did every day.

Mikey held his breath as they walked over to the bench. They stopped once they stepped up to it and stared down at the seat.

Jennifer furrowed her eyebrows and leaned forward to pick up the book, examining it as though it was a possession of someone's that might be missed—which…it was. She glanced around, searching the area as if the owner had lingered—which…he did.

But after a moment of finding no trace of him she smiled and looked toward the boy next to her.

"Have we read this one yet?"

The little boy shook his head.

"Ohh, this is one of my favorites."

She sat down and pulled him up next to her then opened the book and began reading. Mikey pressed his face against his kneepads as he listened, his grip tight around his legs, skin hot and sweaty, stomach slightly empty, chest slightly hollow. Every time she turned a page he visualized the pictures that he had spent years staring at and memorizing and watched as the little baby in the book became a toddler and then a child and then a teenager and then an adult—his beautiful browned-haired, kind-faced mother there by his side all the while, picking him up to rock him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until she couldn't anymore.

"Well, that mother, she got older," Jennifer read. "She got older and older and older. One day she called up her son and said, 'You'd better come see me because I'm very old and sick.' So her son came to see her. When he came in the door she tried to sing the song. She sang:

I'll love you forever,  
>I'll like you for always...<p>

"But she couldn't finish because she was too old and sick. The son went to his mother. He picked her up and rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And he sang this song…"

Mikey took in a breath, parted his lips and sang under his breath:

I'll love you forever,  
>I'll like you for always,<br>As long as I'm living  
>my Mommy you'll be.<p>

Michelangelo sighed and took his face out of his knees to wipe the wet from his cheeks and crawl silently out of the bushes. He couldn't stay while she finished the rest. He didn't want to hear her sing anymore, knowing that he'd never been her baby and never would be. Maybe one day he'd check up on her again, make sure she was okay—still happy and healthy living in a world that never pushed the boundaries beyond what she could take. Maybe she'd forget about him. Maybe she already had…That was okay. Maybe that would make it easier for him to forget her too, though he doubted he really could.

He walked home slowly and no one yelled at him when he came in this time. In fact, they didn't say anything at all. But he could feel their eyes "discreetly" watching him from the corners as he trudged to his room. He'd be happy for them later. Right now he wanted to sleep.

* * *

><p>When he woke, it was to the suffocating scent of something burnt and the ring of someone's voice in his ear.<p>

"Mikey…Mikey!"

He groaned as one of his brothers crawled over him and shook his shoulder. He swatted whosever hand it was away and tried to yank his covers back up to his neck but they wouldn't budge on account of whoever was sitting on top of him.

"Hey Rapunzel, get up, you've slept long enough."

A rough hand, different from the first, tapped his cheek, but he shrank away.

"Rapunzel's the one with the hair, Raph," said Donnie's voice from somewhere on the opposite side of the bed.

Raph scoffed. "Well thank goodness we have you to help us keep our princesses straight, Grimm. God _bless_ the life outta ya."

"Eh hem," Leo cleared his throat. "That's not what we're here for remember? Mikey, wake up!"

The hands shook him again and Mikey finally squinted his eyes open and peered up at his eldest brother who had made himself comfortable straddling his side.

Leo beamed down at him with a very uncharacteristic smile and shiny blue eyes, and Mikey furrowed his brow suspiciously. He turned his eyes on Donnie who quickly straightened up and put on the same smile, flashing that gap between his teeth. The little turtle turned over—as best he could with Leo sitting on top of him—and narrowed his eyes on Raph next whose elbow was propped on his pillow as he leaned against his bed. For a moment Raph just gazed down at him with a flat, green gaze until Leo cleared his throat very obviously again and Raph forced up one corner of his mouth.

Mikey pursed his lips and looked back at his eldest brother. "What're you guys up to? Being annoying this early in the morning is _my_ thing."

Raph scoffed and shook his head.

"It's actually almost noon," Donnie spoke up.

"Really?" Mikey raised a brow at Donnie who nodded. "Too awesome," he moaned, sinking back into his pillows with a yawn and turning over. "Sleep day."

"Oh no ya don't," said Raph, latching onto his shell and shaking him roughly until he opened his eyes with a whine and Leo swatted him away.

"Why're you guys in here?" Mikey groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

Leo took a breath, smile widening proudly. "Well—"

"We made ya breakfast," Raph growled.

"Brunch technically," Donnie said, a finger in the air that he brought down immediately as his eyes dropped and he shrugged in an awkward kind of way. "Well, we _tried_ to at least."

"I-It turned out okay," Leo said with a shrug. "We might've burnt some of it."

"By which he means everything," Raph said.

"Except for the juice," Donnie exclaimed loudly. "I…Well, actually that was store bought."

"I mean, it's _edible_," Leo said, looking to the others for an agreement. They both mumbled something, but Mikey didn't really care if they agreed or not.

He was sitting up now, beaming at his three older brothers with that same fullness in his chest that he'd felt when he was talking to Splinter the other day.

"You guys made me breakfast?" he said, looking between them.

"Brunch," Donnie said rocking forward on his toes.

"Don't get used to it," Raph said shortly, crossing his arms over his chest, though there was a quiver to his cheeks that suggested he might've been holding back a smile.

"Well," Leo shrugged. "We figured we owed you."

"Owed _me_? For what?"

Raph swung out a fist and punched him flat in the arm so hard that the sound of flesh-on-flesh impact echoed through the room.

"Ouch!" Mikey grabbed his arm and winced when Raph moved his hands to re-stuff them over his plastron.

"For what," he grumbled under his breath. "For bein' the best pain-in-the-ass little brother we could've asked for, genius. Why else would we _do_ stuff for you?"

Mikey's cheeks perked up. "Aww...I love you too, Raph."

The red-banded turtle narrowed his eyes and glanced at his brother from the corner of them. A glimmer of a grin appeared on his cheeks. "Yeah, don't get used to it."

"Well, come on," Leo said hopping off the bed and heading for the door, "before it gets cold."

"_Can_ burnt food get cold?" Raph quipped, following close behind.

Mikey slid out of bed and looked up at Donnie who continued to stand there as though waiting for him.

The purple-banded turtle smiled softly and looked toward the ground.

"So you gave it to her then?"

Mikey pursed his lips, trying not to lose his smile as he grabbed for his mask and the rest of his gear and started tying them on. "Yeah," he responded, sitting on the edge of his bed to pull on his kneepads. "I figured she needed it more than me."

"More than _I_," Donnie corrected as he sat next to Mikey. "I'm sorry it didn't work out, Mike. Believe it or not…I really wanted it to."

Mikey smiled tenderly. "It's okay, bro. I've got you guys, and sensei, and you can still sing me lullabies right?"

Donnie scoffed and swiped the mask out of Mikey's hand to tie it around his face for him. "I'm not much into singing these days."

"Ah, come on, Don."

"No, I'm serious. My voice is at that stage—"

"Donnie."

"It's not pretty, Mikey, I'm not kidding."

"Pleeeeeease?"

Donatello tightened the knot on Mikey's bandana and sighed with a roll of his eyes, though there was a small grin in the corners of his mouth. He draped an arm around Mikey's shoulders, cleared his throat and sang:

I'll love you forever,

I'll like you for always,

As long as I'm living

my brother you'll be.


End file.
